Viva Las Vegas!
by Barley Shadow
Summary: Follow up (I don't like the word sequel) to The Literary Agent. Mort and Clementine are off to Las Vegas for a booksigning, to meet some of Mort's fans, one's that are nice, and one's that are not so nice. (Complete.)
1. Viva Las Vegas!

Alright, guys and gals. I do not own Secret Window, anything, blah blah, I do own Clementine, and Simone, blah. There?

And, I'd like to ask you a favor, because I know you're all terribly kind and lovely. I think, I've lost Mort's character a bit in this one, and I fully admit it, but I would like to make the story better, so. If you are kind enough to review (which I'm sure you will be) could you give me a little help? Like, just pointing out something that I've written that Mort would never say, or wouldn't do, or any ideas of what he should say instead, that kind of thing.

Thank you, thank you, I am forever in you debt. (This doesn't mean you can't say nice things too.) Off we go!

Chapter One: Viva Las Vegas

Safe with the knowledge that Shooter could never return to him, Mort Rainey lived in perfect happiness, he had had three stories published since Shooter had put him in hospital, and was now living with his new wife, Clementine Rainey. If Mort had any worries at all, it would be that Shooter could make his way into Clementine's head. The truth was, he didn't know where Shooter was, he knew he'd left him back at the hospital with the doctor - he'd have to find a way to deal with Shooter himself - but Mort didn't know if he was still there. Maybe two worries, the thought that Shooter was immortal and could hop from person to person was terrifying, he could get through everyone in Tashmore Lake, and even the state, easily enough. But maybe Shooter wasn't a murdering psychopath in everyone. Maybe when Mort wrote Secret Window he wrote his subconscious, maybe he had wanted to kill Amy and Ted, just like Tommy Haverlock had done. He even had the secret garden where the new and old parts of the house met at an extreme angle. So maybe Shooter was just making a dream a reality, and, even though Mort's story had ended in tragedy, Shooter could make other people's good dreams come true.

With Clementine around, Mort had all the inspiration he needed, she seemed to be able to come up with amazing storylines and complications with the greatest of ease, and this seemed to satisfy Mort's need for stories for a while, until she decided to keep all her good ideas for herself, bought a laptop and began to write. Mort was inspired and amazed by her motivation, and belief in what she was doing. She didn't sleep most of the day, but neither did he now, and she didn't have any 'bad writing' as Mort called it, a problem he was regularly plagued with. And it was good to have some healthy competition, so Mort's life was pretty much complete, and he was happy, until he received a letter about a booksigning in Las Vegas.

Dear Mr. Rainey

Your literary agency has scheduled for you a booksigning on May 24th at a Las Vegas bookstore.

You will travel on flight A749 out of your local airport on May 23rd at 7:30pm, please come to the office to collect your tickets. We have arranged for Clementine to accompany you. You will both need to be at the airport an hour before the flight departs, and a car will pick you up from Las Vegas airport.

We have booked you all into the Silver Sunset hotel for two nights, May 23rd and 24th. If you have any questions, please do not hesitate to call the office.

Yours Sincerely

Timothy Maloin

Fixtures Representative

"How do you fancy a trip to Las Vegas?" Mort asks Clementine as he opens the mail one morning. Clementine is sitting on the couch, applying a French manicure to her nails, painting the tips the same royal blue as the tips and roots of her hair.

"Las Vegas?" she asks.

"Yup, booksigning," explains Mort, throwing the letter onto the table and going to get some breakfast from the kitchen. He takes a bowl from one of the cupboards and pours cereal into it.

"All expenses paid?" asks Clementine.

"Yup," replies Mort again, sitting beside her.

"Sounds like fun," says Clementine, blowing her nails and craning her head to try and read the letter without having to pick it up.

"Have you been before?" asks Mort.

"Nope, never," she replies, picking the letter up. "May 23rd, that's like, two days, Mort." Mort senses what she's thinking.

"Packing?" he asks sheepishly. Clementine gets to her feet.

"Yes, packing. We've got to pack, and pick up books and photos from the office, and sort everything out!" Mort smiles at the panic-stricken look of her face.

"Calm down babe, we've get all day, provided we're not doing anything else." He takes her into his arms for a hug, but she shrugs out of them.

"Mort, we've no time for anything else. Ok, I'll go to the office to pick up the tickets and sort everything out, you start packing. Sensible clothes, I don't want to come back and find you've packed a change of underwear into a Marshall's bag." She hurries about the house, putting her hair up and picking up her car keys.

"Yes, ma'am," Mort replies, giving her a salute, and promptly sitting back down on the sofa as soon as she closes the door to finish his breakfast.

Twenty minutes later Clementine returned with the tickets for the journey, stacks of photographs of Mort and a couple of boxes of books. As if the bookstore wouldn't have enough. Mort had managed to pack a change of underwear, swimming gear and a woolly jumper into a plastic bag, which was sitting on the table, and he was upstairs by his laptop, playing with his slinky. Clementine looks in the bag.

"Mort!" she yells up the stairs. Mort looks over the banister.

"Oh, hi Clementine," he says cheerily, and gives her a wave.

"Fine, Morton Rainey. I will pack your stuff, and God help you when you get there!" she exclaims, running into their bedroom. She pulls down Mort's jeans and shirts and rummages through his closet. Mort comes into the room like a puppy who knows he's been naughty, and puts his arms round Clementine's waist.

"We don't have to pack today," he says. She looks round at him.

"Yes, we do. Because tomorrow you'll say that you can't be assed, and then the 23rd will roll round, and we'll have a change of underwear and swimwear. So if Las Vegas floods, we'll be fine, but I doubt that will happen," says Clementine, turning to the bed to sort through their clothes. "And I'll have to put stuff in at the drycleaners," she says, selecting a white suit skirt.

"That one's not dry clean only," says Mort. He stops at her glare. "If this booksigning's on 24th, then we can do some sightseeing in the evening? We have to go on the rollercoaster on the Stratosphere, and watch the parade in the Bellano, and gamble. Can't go to Las Vegas and not gamble."

"Sure we can sightsee, lets get packed first though, and get there, and booked in," says Clementine. She piles up three three piece suits on the bed and makes a pile of jeans and shirts for Mort.

"Why am I taking that?" he asks, pointing at one shirt.

"Because you must look your best," says Clementine. Mort takes the shirt and hangs it back up in the closet.

"But I hate that one."

"What do you think you're fans are gonna think when you turn up in an old stripy dressing gown?" asks Clementine.

"Ok take the shirt."


	2. It's A Secret

Chapter Two: It's a secret

Mort puts the bags onto a trolley at the airport and wheels them to check-in and baggage handling.

"I can see you're breaking a sweat there, doing all this hard work," says Mort as they begin to hand in their baggage.

"I've got to look my best Mort, while we're away I'm representing you, as your agent," Clementine replies.

"Good answer," replies Mort as they walk to the duty free lounge.

"Alright, we've got an hour to kill," says Clementine.

"Does this mean we've got an hour for you to walk round all these shops?" asks Mort. Clementine nods, smiling.

Still smiling, Clementine takes Mort's arm and drags him into the nearest shop.

"Well, this is as good a starting place as any."

Mort and Clementine waited in the departures lounge, Clementine resting her head on Mort's shoulder with her feet up on the next seat.

"Did you bring your laptop?" she asks. Mort nods.

"It's in my hand luggage." Their flight number is called, and they board the plane, and find their seats.

"How long's the flight?" Mort asks.

"Mort, are you seven years old? Are we nearly there yet? It's not long," replies Clementine. Mort takes out his laptop and begins to type.

"What are you writing?" Clementine asks.

"Summer Mist," replies Mort.

"About?"

"I'm no telling you that! It's giving away ideas to the opposition."

"Come on, you know I won't steal it."

"Well, I don't trust you Clementine Rainey."

"Fine."

"Will you tell me now?"

"No."

"Would you like a drink?"

"No thank you."

"Sir?"

"Yes, could I have a Mountain Dew please? Thanks."

"Will you tell me now?"

"No."

"Well." Clementine took out her own laptop and set it up.

"What are you doing?"

"I thought I'd go onto a very expensive Vegas casino's website and gamble a very large amount of money," says Clementine. "I'm writing."

"Writing what?"

"It's a secret."


	3. Morton Rainey'

Chapter Three: "Morton Rainey!"

As they come out into the airport at Las Vegas, they are approached by a woman of about twenty.

"Are you Morton Rainey?" she asks, Mort smiles and nods the affirmative. "Will you sign a book for me? I know I've got one in my bag somewhere," and with that she delves into a rather large hand luggage bag, babbling about how much she enjoys Mort's writing and how she wishes her mother were here because she loves him too. In fact she doesn't surface for air until she finds the book, at the bottom of the bag.

"Could we move over here? I think we're holding people up," says Mort, as kindly as he can, noticing that the airport had practically ground to a halt behind her.

"Alright, here we are," she hands over a rather old, battered copy of Everyone Drops the Dime.

"What's your name?" asks Mort.

"Simone, with an e," she says, as Mort scribbles in the front of her book. "In fact, you're doing a booksigning here tomorrow, aren't you? I was going to go to that, but seeing as I've met you now it doesn't really matter does it? Of course, I haven't just come to Las Vegas for that, I'm meeting up with an old friend who works in one of the casino's and she's got a few days off, so it's going to be really good. I'm sorry, I'm babbling. Is this your agent?"

"This is my agent, and wife, Clementine," introduces Mort, glad to have the attention away from him. At the word 'wife' Simone's face promptly fell like a sack of potatoes.

"Oh, I didn't know you were married," she says. And that killed the conversation, which was a good thing for Mort and Clementine. Simone wished them a good stay in Las Vegas and disappeared back into the crowd.

"I think you've got an admirer there," says Clementine as they walk out of the airport into the sticky heat of Nevada. A taxi pulled up and they got inside with their baggage.

In the Silver Sunset hotel, Mort was stopped again to sign the back of a dollar bill, and again. When at last they were checked in and in their rather plush hotel room, Clementine became her usual bossy work counterpart and began talking about the time they had to get up.

"Clementine, you are not my boss, I will get up in time, now shhhh," says Mort and lays down on the bed. Clementine sits down on the bed also.

"Mr. Rainey, while we are here I am your agent and therefore your boss, and I will be treated with respect," she says, playfully.

"Oh yeah?" Mort asks, tackling her onto the bed and lying atop of her. "And what's my boss going to do now?"

"Your boss is going to ask you nicely if you will remove yourself, and, if you don't, your boss might have to resort to more drastic measures."

"And what might they be?" asks Mort. Clementine doesn't answer, instead, tickles him round his waist and he immediately moves, laughing, and then he kisses her.

"What does it feel like to kiss your boss, Mr. Rainey?" asks Clementine, with a serious look on her face.

"It feels great."

So, after kissing on the bed for a while, Mort asks Clementine if she feels ready to go down to dinner, and she does, so they both dress in their poshest attire and descend the stairs to the dinner hall of the Silver Sunset. Pleasantly, Mort is not recognized and he and Clementine enjoy a quiet meal, uninterrupted by the woman in the very white, very space-consuming wedding dress, nor the character dressed as Darth Vader on a movie fanbase holiday, and they find it very amusing when the stoutly gentleman in sixteenth century dress pulls a cell phone from a pocket.

But, they were recognized when they were just about to catch the elevator.

"Morton!"

"Oh God, Simon? Simone? What's her name?" asks Mort.

"Simone, yeah," replies Clementine.

"Hey, Simone!" calls Mort, and Simone comes over.

"Hey, this is the casino my friend works at, might see you again, got to dash."

"Do you think she's leaving the casino? Or going gambling?" asks Mort.

"Why? Too scared to leave the hotel room?" Mort gives Clementine his puppy dog eyes.

"Yes."


	4. Mort'

Chapter Four: "Mort!"

"Mort?"

"God give me strength. Hi Simone."

"Would you like a drink?"

"Sure, why not?"

"Exactly. Two Martini's over here, please!" Simone and Mort stood at the bar, Clementine having wandered towards the bathroom a few minutes earlier.

"Are you trying to get me drunk?" asks Mort. Simone leaned forwards on her bar stool and whispered in Mort's ear.

"How'd you guess?" The barman brought two Martini's over and Simone gave him the bill.

"So, why aren't you gambling?" she asks.

"I promised Clementine I wouldn't gamble til she's back from the bathroom, so she can keep an eye on me," replies Mort.

"Oh. Come on then, I'll keep an eye on you, lets go," says Simone, putting her drink down and holding her hand out. Mort doesn't take it, but rolls his eyes, gets up and follows her out into the casino. "So, what's your game?" Mort scans the room for a moment.

"Blackjack?"

They head over to an almost empty blackjack table and wait for the player to finally hold their hands up in defeat. Which they did, along with a few colorful words and a threat.

"Ok, how much are you willing to gamble?" asks Simone.

"How about, hundred bucks?" suggests Mort, sitting down. He places chips on the table and waits for the dealer to deal. He turns his hand over, eight of clubs, and two of diamonds. "Hit me." Jack of clubs. "Stick." The dealer deals his cards, and Mort wins. Simone leans in and gives him a kiss on the cheek.

"Well done." Mort bets a hundred dollars again and the dealer deals. Seven of diamonds, and six of hearts.

"Hit me." Two of spades. "Hit me." Eight of spades. Bust. "Ok Simone, lets try something else." Mort gets up from the Blackjack table and Simone follows, stopping, at Roulette.

"What do you think?" he asks Simone.

"You betting hundred bucks again?" she replies in question.

"Yeah."

"How about, hundred bucks on, black?"

"Sure," Mort places a hundred dollars worth of chips on the table and they are moved to black. Other people place their bets on the table, and the wheel is spun. Mort cheers, twenty six black. He is handed back his chips, and his winnings. "Hundred on black again?"

"Yup." Mort placed a hundred dollars on black. Four black. Before they knew it, Mort and Simone were on a winning streak, sixteen red, thirty five black, eleven black, nine red, on and on it went. Soon there was quite a crowd gathered around the table, watching Mort and Simone's antics. After counting their winnings at almost two thousand dollars, they decide to quit the table, and quit while they are ahead. Strolling back towards the hotel elevator, Mort wonders where Clementine is. But not for long, Simone slings an arm around his shoulders.

"You know, we make a pretty good team," she says. Mort holds out a bundle of money for her.

"What's this for?"

"I wouldn't have won it without you," he says.

"You wouldn't have done much without me, Mort," Simone answers in a feminine, southern Mississippi accent. Shooter?


	5. Another Shooter

Chapter Five: Another Shooter

"I swear Clementine, it was Shooter, Mississippi and everything," says Mort, they're back in the hotel room, Clementine furious with Mort for not staying at the bar where she left him, and for spending time with Simone when she had appeared, and how he had said he wouldn't want to spend time with her in the least.

"Well?" she replies, laying graciously on the bed.

"Well what?"

"Well, exactly that, so, what?"

"I dunno. But, we definitely gotta steer clear of her now."

"Right. Ok."

"But, how do you think he appears in different people? Is he like, a psycopath in everyone he inhabits? You know? Like, maybe he's not a killer anymore, maybe that was just me," Mort tries to explain.

"Mort, we are meant to be enjoying this night, because tomorrow we are working and the next day we fly home, and I for one, am not enjoying talking about Shooter, I can think of much better things to do."

"Like?" Mort hints suggestively.

"Well," Clementine starts, kneeling on the edge of the bed and pulling Mort towards her, her hands round his neck, kissing him softly.


	6. The Booksigning

Chapter Six: The Booksigning

"Mort, we're going to be late!" calls Clementine, adjusting the jacket of her white suit and looking in the mirror.

"Ok, I'm ready," says Mort, emerging from the bathroom. Clementine looks at him.

"You're not too bad," she says, trying to get a comb through his hair. After a minute or so, she succeeded. "Alright, the limousine's here."

"We're only going down the street!" Mort protests. But Clementine is having none of it, stepping out of the hotel room in the cutest pair of white and bead stilettos.

The booksigning was a lustfest, the store was overcrowded and everyone wanted a piece of Mort. As he and Clementine sat behind a table, Mort hurridly signing his novels, autograph books, photographs the crowd didn't seem to disappear, or even move in any particular direction.

"Can you write it to Sandy?"

"It's for my friend, Melanie, she's your number one fan."

"I've come all the way from New York."

"I couldn't believe it when I heard you were coming to Las Vegas."

"Mariah."

"Alice."

"Michael."

"Sue."

The names went on and on.

"Danielle."

"Miami."

"Scarlett."

"Simone." Simone?

"I know what you're thinking, stalker! But no, not really, I just thought I'd get this signed for my mom, you know she's a huge fan and you signed a book for me but I completely forgot about her. Hey watch it, I'm getting a book signed you loser, back off! Anyway, so I thought I'd come and say hi and get this for my mom. I'm an avid reader of books, so I'm gonna stick around the store for a while browsing."

"Right, well, I'm working right now, so," Mort let the sentence hang.

"Sure, I know, you gotta a lot of stuff to get through, so I'll just wait for you over by the romance section." And she was gone, lost in the crowd of bloodsucking Rainey readers. Romance, great. I'm avoiding her like a bee avoids honey, thinks Mort. But there was no time for thinking.

"Alicia."

"Debbie."

"Brengret."

"Sasha."

"Helen."

And suddenly it was over.

"I don't think I've worked so hard in my life," says Mort to Clementine when they were packing the last few photos and giving the bookstore owner the last books. Clementine looks taken aback.

"Mort, you were sitting at a desk signing books, it's not rocket science or slave labor," she says in shock.

"Lets get out of here," says Mort, quickly lifting his eyes towards the romance section. She was there, sifting through books and checking writeups, flicking through pages. "Really, lets go."

"Mort!"

"Shit." Simone started picking her way over to them, and Mort and Clementine slowly tried retreating over towards the door, but it proved useless.

"Do you mind, if I borrow Mort for one second?" asks Simone as she reaches them. Clementine positively fumes at the thought but nods, gritting her teeth as Simone leads Mort over behind some bookshelves.

"Mort," she begins.

"Simone," he buts in. "This is the fourth time now, what do you want?"

"Honestly?" she asks, seriously. "I want to be with you. I know that I'm already with you mentally, but I want to be with you physically, you inspire me, you put me in awe, you amaze me, I'm addicted to you."

"Right, well, that's probably where our problem is, you know? See, I'm married to Clementine, and, much as you are a lovely person, I'm married to Clementine because I love her."

"Well, at least now you'll know that my spirit is always with you, when you write, when you write those beautiful words down you'll know that I'm there, with you, I'm with you through all of that," says Simone.

"Right, well, that's nice to know, that you're with me, mentally, but, right now I gotta go, so we can't be together, physically, anymore, alright?"

"I'll just leave with the hope that we can be together one day, Morton Rainey." And she leaves. Gone. Just like that. Mort goes back to Clementine.

"I think she's gone, I really think she's gone," says Mort as Clementine sorts out the last few details and they step outside into the blistering Nevada heat.

"So what about Shooter?"

"Hopefully, he's gone with her. Do you fancy watching the Bellano carnival tonight? They've got a nice Gucci store in there," persuades Mort.

"Sure, but, I've got to get changed, and have a shower and stuff," says Clementine.

"Sure." Slowly the limousine pulls out onto the Strip and down towards the Silver Sunset hotel.


	7. The Bellano Carnival

_**A/N:** Dawnie-7! You should know better than to think Shooter's gone for good! I think we can safely say we'll be seeing him again, but I'm not telling you any more than that. Thanks for your lovely reviews, and thanks to Esmeralda Sparrow too._

Chapter Seven: The Bellano Carnival

Technically the Bellano carnival wasn't in Brazil. But the floats on the ceiling were colorful, and the dancing girls were interesting, in a word, to watch. As soon as Clementine entered the hotel the party started, Mort loved the way she had fun, whether she's arranged a party or whether she recruits total strangers in a hotel in Las Vegas. Taking her glass she dragged Mort through the crowds to the upstairs rail to watch the floats. But after a while, she got bored and they went shopping, of course.

"Gucci!" she exclaims as they reach the Gucci store. "Now, Mort, I'm not this shallow, I don't like Gucci, lets try, this store!" and off they go into a music store. Guitars are strung up over the walls, books depicting the teddy boy era, hippies, punks and on and on. Photos of stars, the Beatles, Marylin Manson, Kurt Cobain, Keith Moon in pig muck, what a star. Guitars signed by Black Sabbath, $2000!

"Clementine, is this really what you're interested in?" asks Mort.

"Yes, look at this, and this one, Blondie!" Clementine talks mostly to herself as she wanders round looking at the pictures. "Mort."

"Mort?" asks Mort.

"Yes, look," says Clementine, pointing. Mort looks.

"Simone." They both head out of the store, as quietly as possible, not to attract the attention of the girl, and soon they're lost in the throes watching the scantily clad girls dancing, throwing necklaces of dice and trinkets to the crowd.

"At least she's not been threatening or violent, hopefully she's just the regular stalker, not the psychopathic one," shouts Clementine over the music.

"At least we've lost her for now," says Mort. Clementine starts dancing to the music amid the people watching, not noticing anyone really, other than Mort.

Suddenly, she felt herself being lifted up and pushed over the rail, grabbing at anything she could to stop this person, was it just someone having a laugh, a bit drunk, or with more sinister intent? She called out to Mort who had his back to her, and he turned around, just as she was let go, over the edge.

Dropping her glass her hands flailed about, and caught the edge of the landing where the crowd had gathered, she felt a pull below her left ear, and discovered that a washing line had been tied around her neck. Crying out, tears streaming down her face she tried to get it off, Mort was looking down at her, panic on his face. Someone beside him pulled out a penknife and tried to cut the line, but it was no use, it was wire and all he succeeded in doing was cutting the plastic.

Clementine panicked, if she hadn't caught the ledge her neck would have snapped, it couldn't bear thinking about, she could just see Mort's fingers grappling with the washing line tied around the banister, and all the time the music played.


	8. Any Enemies?

_**A/N: **Good morning lovely people! Hello and welcome. I read the last chapter through on the net about an hour ago because I couldn't remember if I'd left you guys on a cliffie, and I think I did. So, because I am as lovely as you I'm not gonna keep you waiting too long because I hate cliffie's with a passion! Dah! And when I reread it, I thought, 'the Bellano's a real hotel in Las Vegas.' Because I did change the names over, because if someone wrote in their story that someone was killed at my address I'd be pretty peed off about it, so I changed them. And Bellano is not a hotel in Las Vegas, I was thinking of the Bellagio which is a great hotel, although I never went in, so all's well that ends well. And even now I'm stopping you guys from reading, so I'm gonna quit my consistent waffling about nothing and get on with the story!_

_Thank you to my reviewers, you know who you are, I wouldn't dream of putting your names up here and embarrasing you! Hehe, gives an evil grin._

Chapter Eight: Any enemies?

Mere seconds later people on the ground floor noticed what was happening, and workers at the Bellano hotel found a stepladder before anyone could have said 'Simone.' Clementine was being helped down, pulling the line from around her neck, shaking like a leaf and crying a river. Mort was pushing his way down the stairs to get to her, finally, he did.

"Oh my God, Clementine." And that was all they said for minutes, crying into eachothers arms.

"Are you ok?"

"You scared me to death! Are you alright?"

"Who the hell would do something like that?"

"Oh, I think I have a pretty good idea," whispers Mort into Clementine's ear. "Are you really sure you're alright?" She nods. Before anyone could make more fuss Mort led Clementine out of the hotel, helped by the man with the penknife.

"Will you be ok from here?" he asks. Clementine nods and thanks him for his help.

"Thanks," thanks Mort, taking Clementine back to the Silver Sunset, leaning on him all the way.

"It'll be all over the papers tomorrow, we can get that Simone put away," says Mort.

"Mort, I didn't see anything," Clementine whimpers, "We can't prove anything."

"She was in that hotel, and that's enough for me. Do you want to get a flight out of here tonight?" Clementine shakes her head as they reach the Silver Sunset. As soon as they get there people approach them.

"Are you alright?"

"Did it really happen?"

"Can we just, make our way to our room, please?" asks Mort as he tries to advance closer to the room amid the people concerned for his wife. "We just want to be alone for a while, but thank you for your concern."

And they do get to the room. Mort lays Clementine down on the bed, still sobbing, patches over her pale top and straggly hair.

"Lets see your neck," he says, gently putting a hand by her throat.

"No, if anything hurts its my arm, catching that ledge, the wire didn't touch my throat at all," explains Clementine.

"Do you think it's broken? Sprained?"

"No, just stretched," she smiles. Then it fades. "If it was her, do you think Shooter was inside her?"

"Shhh, sleep babe, sleep," says Mort, cradling her in his arms.

"I want to get changed first," she says, sitting up and attempting to stand but failing, her legs weak.

"Come on, I'll help you," says Mort, crouching by the side of the bed and undoing her trainers. He helps her into the bathroom where she changes and gets ready for bed.

Mort had been right, it was all over the papers the next morning and police were banging at their hotel room door at half past eight the next morning.

"Yes, Simone, I don't know her, I signed a book for her at the airport, and then, we bumped into her at the hotel, I played a bit of Blackjack with her, we split the money, and um. . . she was at the booksigning we came to do, waited for me afterwards and said that, er, that she was with me mentally but she wanted to be with my physically, or something like that," Mort explains to the police.

"But she never threatened Mrs. Rainey? Or, took much notice of her, friendly or otherwise?"

"No."

"Well, we'll see if we can find a Simone staying at the hotel, although I won't be surprised if she's gone," says the cop. "Are you staying in Las Vegas?"

"No, we're flying home today, back to Tashmore," says Mort.

"We'd prefer it if you didn't," says the cop.

"We just want to get out of here," Clementine says, throwing clothes into a suitcase.

"No, Mrs. Rainey, we'd prefer it if you stayed in Las Vegas," repeats the cop.

"I'm sure the Bellano would offer you a complimentary suite for however many nights you wished to stay," he says.

"Well, we don't want to stay any nights, at any hotel, especially not the Bellano," says Clementine.

"We'd prefer it if you didn't leave town," the cop says, and leaves.

"Better unpack the suitcase, we could be here a while," says Mort, Clementine begins to sob.

"I don't want to stay! Why can't they just let us go home?" Mort takes her in his arms, rubbing her back.

"They're cops, they can do whatever they want. Honey, we're gonna get this sorted out, ok? Come on, we don't have to go out anywhere." Clementine wipes her eyes.

"Alright."


	9. Five Days in Room 119

Chapter Nine: Five days in room 119

The cops didn't get back to Mort and Clementine anytime soon, and they slowly ran out of things to do. Movie marathons and ice cream and candy from room service were great for the first day or so, but after that the excitement of it wore off. Clementine had finally had enough.

"Lets go down to dinner tonight, Mort," she says, standing by the window. "We've been up here for five days now getting room service, I can't live in cotton wool for the rest of my life, and I'm bored. I'm alright now, honestly."

"Honestly? Alright then. When do you want to go down?" asks Mort flicking over the channels on the widescreen TV.

"Well, I'm gonna put on something smart, its my first night back into the world so I've got to look my best. Did we send those things down to be washed?"

"Yup," replies Mort, sitting on the edge of the bed.

"Aren't they supposed to be back by now? It must have been three days at least."

"Yeah. Don't worry about it, you'll look gorgeous," says Mort, kissing her forehead and then going into the bathroom.

"Alright. Give me half an hour and we'll go."

Dinner proved a great success. Clementine was very talkative and at her best since the accident - if you could call it that, murder attempt, might be more appropriate - had happened. Sliding their trays along the rail, picking out food they met several people who asked after Clementine's health.

"I'm fine, thank you for your concern. Yes, it was a shock, I almost can't believe it now. Mort, why won't these people just go away?" she whispers to him when they had been left alone for a few seconds.

After eating to their hearts content, and filling up somewhat mainly on ice cream factories and candy, they returned to the room, Clementine better for the trip downstairs.

"Do you want to order a movie?" asks Mort back in the hotel room. Clementine takes down her hair and jumps onto the bed.

"Sure. You chose, something nice, romantic comedy, fantasy, I still don't think I could watch horror." There's a knock at the door.

"Room service."

"Room service?" asks Clementine. Mort shrugs.

"Must be the washing," he says as he opens the door.

"Morton, the cops have been all over me," says Simone from the door.


	10. It Wasn't Me!

Chapter Ten: It wasn't me

"What the hell happened? They were talking about murder charges and I just got so confused, I've only just been let out of the cells today, I had to stay overnight and be interviewed and it's all your fault! What did you say to them?"

"What did we say to them?" Clementine exploded. "What the fuck did you do is a better question! I could have died!"

"What?" Simone retaliates.

"Ok, calm down," says Mort, getting inbetween Clementine and Simone. "Right. Does everyone feel better now we're not shouting and attracting the attention of everyone on this floor?"

"How the fuck are you even here? They should have kept you and charged you, at least banned you from visiting the Silver Sunset," says Clementine.

"What did I do? Tell me what I have done to deserve this!" says Simone, inching forward towards Clementine.

"Simone, you don't know anything? You don't remember what happened five nights ago at all?" says Mort, a little more quieter than his wife.

"Yeah, I bet she doesn't."

"No, wait Clementine, Simone, do you know a man called John Shooter?"

"No."

"Do you have split personalities? Schizophrenia?"

"No," Simone thinks for a moment. "I black out though, sometimes for hours people tell me. Like, sleepwalk because people say they've seen me and I don't remember any of it."

"Right, now we're getting somewhere. So, you don't know anything that happens because of this, no after-effects, or, anything?"

"No, why are you saying this? Did I sleepwalk and do something terrible?"

"Yeah, pretty terrible," says Clementine, still not completely calm.

"Do you remember going to the Bellano?" says Mort, sitting Simone down on the edge of the bed.

"Mort just get her out of here, she tries to kill me and then turns up with room service? She's twisted Mort."

"Yes, I went to the Bellano with my friend, I don't remember much happening though," says Simone.

"Alright, this will probably come as a shock to you, but, this is why the police called to see you. At the Bellano you tried to hang Clementine."

"What?"

"You tied some washing line round her neck and threw her off of the balcony," explains Mort.

"Oh my God! Are you ok? I didn't hurt you did I? Oh my God," says Simone, eyes a little wider than usual. Clementine sighs and sits by her on the bed.

"No, no permanent damage, scared me to death though," she says, trying to comfort Simone as best she can, under the circumstances.

"I can't believe I'd ever do that. I only wanted to meet up with you, Morton. You're my idol, I've got pictures of you on the walls of my bedroom, schoolgirlish as it is. Even though there's a bit of jealousy towards Clementine I'd never try to hurt you, you've got to believe me, please don't press charges, it wasn't me!" Simone cries.

"Shhh. Come on, cry like that and you'll attract attention from somewhere," says Mort.

"Simone, are you alright?" Clementine asks, Mort looks at Simone's face and it's blank, he looks at Clementine. But when he looks back there's life again in Simone.

"Simone?"

"Simone? Maggie. You?" she looks at Clementine. "You!" she screeches. "I can't believe it didn't work!"


	11. Showdown with Maggie

_**A/N: ** Taa daa! I'm here with chapter 11. So, um, yeah. I quite like this chapter, just so you know, it's a personal favorite of mine so I hope you guys and gals enjoy it. And, just so you know, if you hadn't guessed, we are drawing near the end of our happy tale, and there's only 2 chapters left! Yes, you heard right, 2! So, thank you reviewers, as always, you are angels._

Chapter Eleven: Showdown with Maggie

Simone, or rather, Maggie, marches right up to Clementine.

"Why aren't you dead?"

"Why aren't I dead? Who the fuck are you to even talk to me you spineless bitch! After what you did? Why would you want me dead?"

"Because that's how it works, darling. Simone," she lets out a snort. "Simone is just a Morton Rainey obsessed little cow, shit I've stepped in that I've got to put up with and sort out! That's how it works Mrs. Rainey, and that's why you should be dead right now, we should be having your funeral tomorrow, getting rid of you for good!"

"Why? Why does it work that way?"

"Mort'll tell you. It's happened to him before, I can see it in your eyes," she walks up to Mort. "You wanted your wife dead, and her son-of-a-bitch lover and he did it! He did it!"

"So you know Shooter."

"Know him? Know of him more like. But I'd love to know him, just like poor little Simone's wanted to know you all these years and now she finally has met you but her lust doesn't stop there, no, she wants you, what was it she said? Mentally and physically? Yes, I bet she does. And when she marries you, I'll marry Shooter and we'll all be happy, but no, you had to marry this cow instead, so that's why she should be dead, because then our way would be clear but she had to screw it up!"

"It would never have worked anyway. I left Shooter at Tashmore Lake with the doctor at the hospital, so if you want to meet Shooter you'll have to go somewhere else and do it!" Maggie stops to consider this for a moment, but not for too long.

"And you know the selfish, prioritizing, me me me setup that this is? No, I'll never get Shooter if he's not with you because I've got to put her first! I'm here to sort our her life! I can't even live one of my own and that is why Mrs. Rainey here has to go. Bye bye darling. Ta ta."

"What are you going to do?" asks Clementine, shaking at the other end of the hotel room.

"I'm going to kill you. Because at least then part of me will be happy. See this sort of works out for everyone, I kill you darling, which will make me happy because I like to sort things out permanently, I don't like things being left, so they can slip up and all my plans are ruined. So I kill you, Mr. Rainey here's free to marry again so marries Simone, she's happy, we're all happy, we're all so happy, and you're so dead."

"I'd never marry Simone," says Mort, trying to manoeuvre himself between Maggie and Clementine but it's no use. "I would never marry Simone!"

"Oh yes you would, you'll find out I'm pretty persuasive, when this bitch is gone you'll be putty in my hands, you'll marry Simone you'll take us to this doctor and then we'll find Shooter, and life will be complete, so really, all that's left is for me to kill Clementine, may I call you Clementine?"

"You can call me anything you like," says Clementine through gritted teeth. Mort goes towards Maggie and takes her by her hair, dragging her backwards towards the door of the hotel room. She scrapes at his hands with her nails and lashes out to him, Clementine stands almost immobilized by the window of the hotel room. And then she finds her feet and follows Mort out into the hallway, nobody's about.

"I'll follow you, I'll always follow you Clementine Rainey for as long as you live, because I can only find happiness when she has, and when she marries your loving husband she'll have it. Don't think you'll ever be alone," Maggie hisses through her teeth as Mort pulls her down by the elevators. "Once you're gone he won't wait to jump into bed with the nearest bit of skirt he can find, he won't even remember you by the first anniversary of your death." This had been enough for Clementine, she flew at Maggie who was nearly at the elevators, at the end of the hall by the floor to ceiling window that looked out over the side of the Strip, pushing and pulling her in every which way, both women pulling at eachothers hair they bump into the window.

"Come on," says Mort, a little louder than his normal voice, but not to loud to attract attention. But Clementine and Maggie take no notice at all, Mort sees Maggie take something out of a pocket and he runs towards them, trying to get it out of Maggie's hands, he doesn't. She lashes out with an arm and smashes the window, glass is tinkling down the side of the building. Mort pulls both women away from the window and looks down.

"Move!" he yells to the people below, but it's too late for them to hear, the glass smashes down on the floor, narrowly missing people and hurling itself outwards. Clementine falls against Mort and they are both pushed backwards, Mort falling to the side and Maggie landing ontop of Clementine, shoulders on the ledge of the window, shaking and shaking her, Mort struggling to pull her off. Maggie takes a hand and shoves Mort backwards, Clementine wriggling to get fully back inside the hotel and not have her top half hanging a hundred and fifty feet above the road below. Both women hitting out at the other, striking one another's face, and then, one falls.


	12. The Funeral

Chapter Eleven: The funeral

It was a cold day as Mort stood ontop of the hill in the small town where her parents lived, where she'd grown up, dressed in black and listening to the service going on about him, tears weren't leaving his eyes, he couldn't bring himself to cry at her death. Sure, he hadn't known her for that long, but people fall in love at first sight, and marry within weeks sometimes. He didn't need to know her that long for her to make an impact. Family, her mother and father stood by the side of the grave and threw their single roses onto the coffin as it was lowered into the ground. Mort looked at their faces, tears falling down both parents cheeks, dolefully staring into the ground, where their daughter lay, he knew he could never imagine how they would mourn. Then they threw the first soil onto the coffin, turned their backs and slowly proceeded down the hill.

He had cared for her, after all, he had comforted her when she cried and smiled at her joy, spent so long in her presence and now she was gone. Hopefully, Mort thought, to a better place, one which would accept her and treat her right, nothing was her fault, she couldn't be blamed for anything in her short life. She had made people happy, she had made them laugh, and that was a great thing, something to be proud of and as Mort left the hill, and her body, he hoped that somewhere above him, her soul was already watching.


	13. Retribution

_**A/N: ** To all my irresistable reviewers, it's a shortie, and, the last one, (sobs uncontrollably.)_

Chapter Twelve: Retribution

Mort sits in the police station, waiting, glumly. People bustle around him, comparing notes, talking about cases, getting coffee from the machine, everytime he hears the cups filling.

"Are you ok?" one female cop asks him, holding a cup of coffee. "Do you want coffee?"

"No, thanks, I'm alright," says Mort, going back to staring at the floor. She leaves him. He was going to stay there, no matter what anyone told him, until the matter was sorted out, for good. He owed Clementine that.

The interview room door opened, Mort almost recoiled into his chair. A police officer walked over to him, and invited him inside. Mort didn't want to go.

"We've heard everything from one point of view, sir. We've seen the hotel security camera footage, we've got the whole thing on tape and we can see that it wasn't your wife who caused the incident. Please could you read this statement and tell us if there's anything else to add, or if these are the true events happening previously." He pushes a few sheets of stapled paper towards Mort, who reads them over.

"No, that's what happened, I have nothing else to add," he says, pushing the paper back across the table.

"Well, in that case, Mr. Rainey, you're both free to go," he says, getting up. "Could someone get me some coffee?" A younger police officer leaves the interview room and Mort shakes hands with his interviewer before leaving the interview room considerably happier than when he went in, knowing that the police's view wasn't that Clementine had been guilty for anything.

Mort was glad to be back at Tashmore. He knew that in his heart he would always be with Clementine, whether he was with her or without, on different sides of the Atlantic, or in the same room. Mort would always have her love.

_**A/N: **Right, there it is! The last chapter. I've got one last idea, and I decided not to tell you who died (spiritually, technically and gramatically,) because I'm not sure if Clementine's gonna be in it or not. So, it could have been Simone, it could have been Clementine, I'll be leaving you in suspense a little longer, we'll have to see if she crops up in the next story._

_Lots of love_

_Silver Bell_

_xx_


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